


tutor me how not to flinch when I throw my heart in your face

by areyoumarriedriver



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/pseuds/areyoumarriedriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She meets him by accident really, and it startles her so badly to see the dull blue paint in the corner of her eye. It shocks her into stopping, turning, looking at the TARDIS with elation and dread and they are so tangled up, she can’t tell the difference anymore.</p><p>Maybe they’re the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tutor me how not to flinch when I throw my heart in your face

**_tutor me how not to flinch when I throw my heart in your face_ **

It takes her a long time, after the Library, to feel like a whole person. Some days she’s convinced only a fraction of herself came out of there, somehow the shadows consumed the rest. It takes her ages, or it feels about that long, but she refuses to feel guilty about it, because it took him so long to come around that she’s pretty sure she’s still waiting now.

She meets him by accident really, and it startles her so badly to see the dull blue paint in the corner of her eye. It shocks her into stopping, turning, looking at the TARDIS with elation and dread and they are so tangled up, she can’t tell the difference anymore.

Maybe they’re the same.

She hears the hum in her mind, a stroke, a warm welcome, a sympathetic nudge – it feels like understanding and she smiles, because she knows that his ship knows. She understands the hesitation and River sighs softly, because running before this hadn’t felt like running at all. It had been recovery – dying takes some time to get over.

But turning away now, without looking for him, without seeking him out to say ‘ _hello, sweetie_ ’ and ‘ _I’m not dead_ ’ and leaving the rest up to him – that _would_ feel like running. And though she hates them a bit, his rules always ring through her head endlessly on loop, _never run when you’re afraid_. She thinks it’s a bit funny that the only rule of his he’s ever followed is the first one. The Doctor is practically a poster boy for ‘ _Do as I say, not as I do_ ’.

And she _is_ scared, because she’d been in there a long time. The Library. Long enough that she combed through her life countless times, mining more and more self-doubt with each pass.  Knowing she died – quite literally – the day he met her paints his every action, word, and movement in a totally different light. So she is scared, because she’s not quite sure what will happen next. What he will say. How she will keep all that damage in – and if she even wants to anymore. He doesn’t like it – but then, it’s not like she loves it herself, so why should she spare him?

She has grown remarkably selfish in her old age, she thinks, ignoring the voice that says it was never something she had to grow into at all.  She blinks in surprise, because she is standing by the doors now, palms pressed against them – should she knock? Does she _need_ to? The TARDIS is a negative noise in her head – so she listens and simply pulls the door open and walks inside.

 _It’s a disco_.

It’s her first thought as she watches the metal rings turn and the lights swirl. It is cold and austere and possibly the best representation of him she has ever seen. The console she was familiar with had been bright and whimsical, garish and distracting – fanciful. It had been the veneer he slapped onto himself to survive. She is more than familiar with the technique – because hadn’t she done the same thing every time she met him?

The room is empty, but something tells her it would feel this way even if he were in it, and the frightened feeling returns – she’s not sure she’s ready for this, but the universe apparently has other ideas. So she sits, and doesn’t seek him out. She’s not even actually sure if he’s on board, or if he will come strolling through the doors after her.

She waits, and she hates it. She’s never been good at the waiting – not for him, not for her parents, not for anything or anyone.  But that fear keeps her in the chair, looking around, a bit overwhelmed with the urge to just fly away – whether he was on board or not.

She’s not sure how much time passes – her sense of it used to be so acute, but she thinks it’s one of the first things the shadows consumed, because being in the Library felt like forever. Thousands and thousands of years. After a long while, the door rattles with a key, and she suppresses a smug grin at that. He still uses a key like he can’t just walk in. It creaks open and he strides into the room, long legs eating up the space, and still _her_ Doctor’s face – which she appreciates.

He stops dead when he sees her, sitting primly on the jumpseat and watching his approach. She savours the surprise on his face, because it’s not really all that often that she gets to _truly_ surprise him. The man who likes to think he knows everything. “Hi.” The word feels odd falling out of her mouth, but she cannot bring herself to greet him like she normally does. Or even like _he_ normally does. _Hi honey, I’m home_. They are no longer a repeating spiral of events where the beginning meets the end and everything else just aligns in the middle of the chaos. She wants this to feel different, because it _is_ different. And she wants him to know that, straight off.

“River…” he stares at her from where he stands by the ramp, and there is shock in his voice. “How did you get here?”

“I came through the door,” she remarks off-handedly, because what else can she say? What words could explain it to him – _I rescued myself because you were late. As usual._

He startles at that, and steps slowly toward her and she knows he can feel the difference in the atmosphere. His face is drawn and he looks older and she _hates_ the new jacket – he’s dressing like he’s bloody Heathcliff now, and she misses the joyful veneer. But then, he probably misses hers too. Flirting and deflecting.  “When are we for you?”

 “When are we for _you_ ,” she parries back and he frowns in confusion, floundering. She’s not doing anything he expects, she can tell. She stands smoothly, and he steps back a bit at that – her hearts splinter just a bit more at the sight of it. She’s a ghost for him – well and truly now, she thinks. “I’m not dead,” she finally adds, and his eyes widen almost comically. He frowns, clearly unsure how to respond to that and she sighs. “Well, I was. I suppose – technically. But what’s a prison to River Song, even if it happens to be a prison presented as an afterlife. Did you really think I’d stay there?” She asks the question with a tilt of her head and he stares at her, his eyes shining and a smile bursting across his face.

She wants to smile back, she really does – lose herself in the joy of the moment of reunion, but she can’t seem to do it. “Are you – are you serious?” he asks through the grin and she nods. He wrings his hands, staring at her as if he is almost afraid, and yet she can see the joy in his eyes through his tears – the sight eases her somewhat and she nods again.

“I left the Library.”

“ _How_?” he asks incredulously, dancing closer and closer in all his nervous flailing.

“Toothpaste, a paperclip and two bits of sting,” she shoots back with a roll of her eyes. “Does it really matter _how_? I saved myself,” she adds and his joy dims at that. She knows he hears what she didn’t say, _because you wouldn’t._

“River-” he starts but she shakes her head sharply and he falls silent.

“It was… difficult. And took a very long time, Doctor.” She wraps her arms around herself as she speaks and she shrugs indifferently. “Afterward – I didn’t really have any place to go. I’m dead, my parents are-” she hesitates at the pain on his face as she mentions it, and she pushes away the odd ache at the sight of his crestfallen face, “gone,” she finishes with a soft sigh. “And the Silence – I’ve been living here,” she adds softly, referring to the planet he’d landed on. A 51st century human colony in the Tauri system.

He frowns at that, moving closer, approaching her cautiously as an odd expression crosses his face. “What about _me_? Did you just not – not even – would you have come _told_ me if I hadn’t landed here?”

She looks at him, her lip trembling as she remains silent for a moment. “Of course I would have. But what you would I have gotten, Doctor? I couldn’t compromise the timeline,” she lies with ease, and his eyes narrow as she curses inwardly. Of course he knows. Of _course_.

“How _long_ ago, River?” his voice is suspicious and she hugs herself tighter as she shakes her head. “ _River_ ,” he says her name again and she sniffles, moving suddenly, walking past him, only to have him grab at her arm as she walks by, tugging her back, his gaze intense. “You tell me how long.”

“How long since _what_ , Doctor?” she snaps finally and he draws back in shock, his face open and aching. “Since I died? Since I got here? It’s two _vastly_ difference answers.”

“Any – either. Both,” his voice is a whisper and it tugs at her hearts as she looks away.

“I don’t _know_ how long I was in the Library. In terms of _real_ time. In there – it was centuries, at least. I escaped four years ago.” She answers him in a low voice and he draws a breath in as she avoids his gaze any way she can.

“How long for you? Since the towers, I mean,” she clarifies and he flushes in response.

“A very long time,” he admits.

“That’s not an _answer_.”

“Nearly seventy-five years, River. There. Happy? I’ve been in mourning for damn near a century,” he snaps as he drops her arm and she turns her eyes to him once more.

“Pity you didn’t have time to do more than _mourn_ , Doctor.” Her voice is steely and he flinches at her words, his eyes meeting hers as she stares him down.

“It wasn’t like _that_ River.”

“Oh, I’m sorry – so you did what then?” she lifts her brows as she asks, and he shakes his head.

“There was no _possible_ way to save you River,” he pleads and she laughs – a short, hollow sound.

“Obviously not entirely true, as I _am_ here. Do you know – the first century alone, I thought of nearly _fifty_ different ways you could do it, if you were so inclined. I waited – and I _hate_ waiting, Doctor. I thought – no, he’s going to come, just like he always has. It took so very long for the self-doubt to start making its way in. For me to start _really_ looking at every single one of our stories – from _your_ perspective. How _guilty_ you must have felt, how it must have _eaten_ at you. I was already dead. For you,” she feels the tears spill over as she speaks, but she makes no move to brush them away.

It surprises her when he does it for her, moving closer and brushing his fingers, feather-light, across her cheek. “ _No_ ,” he breathes the word out but it is his only protest and she sighs once more.

“ _Hundreds_ of years Doctor. For me to sit and realise the truth of it. How even hundreds of years into it for you – you would protest and fight me. _It didn’t count,”_ she scoffs and he shakes his head from side to side.  “How could it for you? I suppose I manoeuvered you, maybe you felt manipulated, or angry or guilty once you knew who and what I was. Maybe you felt you _owed_ it to me, or- or-”

“No, River – please, not even – you don’t – I didn’t _mean_ it,” his own voice is thick with tears as he grasps at her arms, pulling her nearer as he presses a shaking hand to her face, now wet with tears. “I never _meant_ it when I said that,” he insists and she smiles, shaking her head.

“You did,” she insists softly and his expression is frantic as he looks at her, clutching at her.

“No. No! I lie, River, I _lie_ -”

“I know,” she agrees. “To everyone, including me. And I thought I knew the difference, you know. Between the truth and the lies. But I don’t think I did,” she shakes her head and her voice is trembling, still thick with tears that drip down her chin and roll along her neck, dropping on to her chest and sliding beneath the shirt she is wearing. “ _This_ is why I didn’t find you,” she admits the truth in a quiet voice and he makes a strangled noise as she does so. “I knew it would hurt. Both of us. Isn’t it better for you to mourn and move on than _this_ , Doctor? River Song died in a Library and saved thousands of people and one incredibly stubborn Timelord.”

“No,” he whispers, and when she looks up she sees the tears in his eyes as he stares at her. “ _No_ , River – that wouldn’t have been _better_ , are you out of your mind? You’re _here_ , you’re _alive_ , you’re – I’d say you’re a miracle but that’s wrong, because it’s just _you_. You’re brilliant,” he finishes and she laughs shortly.

“I don’t think I left the same, Doctor. I think – I think maybe I lost parts of me among the shadows. That’s part of why I ran too,” she admits and he shakes his head, both of his hands cupping her face now, his fingers anxiously stroking the skin along her jaw as he stares at her.

“No, you’re _my_ River, I can tell, I can _see_ it. Please, River,” he begs and she shakes her head, a smile curling the corner of her mouth up. At least the tears have stopped, she thinks, and she takes a deep breath and shakes her head again, stepping back, out of his reach.

“It’s odd you know. Anita and the others – they were lost, about a hundred years in. She couldn’t save them – the data banks they were housed in failed. And Charlotte,” her voice wavers at that and she takes a deep breath to calm herself, “Charlotte never called me by name. Not River, anyway. It’s been so long since someone’s called me that,” she whispers and his breathing speeds up as he looks at her, his hands still outstretched between them. She wipes her face and glances around, drinking in the sight of the TARDIS. One last time. She looks at him much the same way, and the tears that have been swimming in his eyes finally fall. “I should go, I’ve got to get back.”

“What?! No! Get back to what? River – you belong here. In the TARDIS. _This_ is your home,” he insists and she laughs, looking at him incredulously.

“No,” she speaks softly, staring at him. “It’s a place I lived, Doctor. In a sort of way, I suppose. And I’ve a _life_ here, Doctor. I was on my way to an appointment-”

“ _No_ ,” he almost shouts it this time, and she startles at the force behind the word.  “No,” he continues in a calmer voice, “you have a life _here_. With me. We belong together, River. Your hearts and mine,” he pleads and she stares at him, shaking her head. “ _Yes_ , we do – don’t, River, don’t you – _please_ , I don’t want you to _go_ ,” his voice trembles and she steps closer to him, smoothing a hand across his cheek. He turns his face instantly, nuzzling into the gesture and pressing a kiss to the center of her palm before he looks at her, his eyes swimming. “ _Please_.”

“Why?” she asks him seriously, hushing him with a thumb sliding along his mouth when he opens it to answer her. “You’ve moved on,” she insists, ignoring the denial in his eyes. “You don’t owe me anything, and I don’t want your obligation, Doctor-”

“Stop calling me that!” He turns his face away to insist and she stares at him. “Doctor, Doctor, Doctor! That’s not how you speak to me, River. Sweetie and honey and my love – or my _name_ , River-”

“She’s dead,” she finishes softly and he shakes his head in rejection of the thought. “I’ve been Melody Williams here. And I don’t want to _burden_ you any longer-”

“ _Stop saying that_ ,” his voice is raw with pain. “You love me. You do! I know you do, River – tell me.”

“I do love you,” she speaks softly as she sniffles slightly. “I don’t know how not to, Doctor. Even in there. Even on days when I thought I _hated_ you for leaving me, or for loving my mother more,” she takes another deep breath – she can feel the tears and she doesn’t want to cry again.

“River, _no_ ,” he sounds horrified and she shakes her head.

“I don’t – I wasn’t rational in there, Doctor. I don’t think I was _sane_ some days. I was alone.” She takes another breath and blows the air out as he stares at her.

“I’m not leaving here without you,” he insists after a moment of silence.

“Doctor,” she sighs and he straightens, his face calming as he looks at her.

“I am _not_ leaving here without you, River Song.  You belong with me, with me and the old girl. All of us – together. I’ll show you, I’ll _prove_ it to you,” he insists and she smiles at him softly.

“You won’t be patient enough to,” she points out truthfully and he looks so offended, she feels the bizarre urge to giggle. “You can’t stay in one place. You never could. You can’t run when you’re standing still, Doctor.”

“You don’t need to run when you’re at your destination, River,” he insists and she stares at him for a moment.

“You won’t like it here, Doctor.”

“I don’t care – I don’t care if I do. You are my _wife_ , and when you died I holed myself away for so long I had to be dragged back out into the light. But not – it’s only ever been _you_ , River.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way-”

“I don’t _want_ it any other way. River, I _love_ you,” he insists and she stares at him in shock. In all their time, he’s never said the words until this moment. “I know – I _know_. I was afraid to say it – I _should_ have said it. But I was afraid it would hurt more – losing you – if I ever said it out loud. But I do. I didn’t want to, but you – River – you just sauntered your way past all of my objections and into my hearts. I _have_ stayed in one place. For nearly half a century, I sat on a cloud in the sky over Victorian London – do you remember the Frost Fairs? How often we’d visit there? Because you loved the corsets and shocking the locals. I never – I never spoke to anyone unless I had to. For years and years, I watched time slip by. Some days I had to stay away, because I knew we were down there – and it _hurt_ but it felt _so good_.  Because it meant I still _felt_ something – anything.” He stares at her as she blinks back the tears, feeling the ache in her chest widen at his words.

“Doctor, it’s been _so long_ for me. And for you,” she starts and he shakes his head in denial.

“No. _No_. You said you love me – still. And I love you – both of my hearts, River. So wholly and completely. You _love_ me, and I am never going anywhere without you ever again. So if I need to stay here, and convince you, I will. I will go call on you every day, until you are _sick_ of my face. I will show you – I should have showed you then, I won’t make that mistake twice. I love you, and the only way I’m leaving this planet is if you pilot us away.”

He steps closer until his chest is brushing against hers and she stares up at him, not sure what to believe. “Believe in _me_ ,” he answers, and she isn’t sure if she spoke aloud or if he’s read her mind. But it’s no matter, because his hands slide along her jaw, tangling in her curls as he bends down and kisses her, soft and slow. His mouth is gentle against her own, and she can taste the saline from both their tears as she kisses him back, her hands wrapped around his wrists. He doesn’t try to deepen the kiss; he simply brushes his lips against hers, over and over, like a promise. She feels breathless when he pulls away, her cheeks flushed and her mouth open as she stares into his eyes.

 “What if I – I’m not the same as I was then?” she gives voice to her deepest fear – that escaping that place has altered her forever and he smiles down at her, his hazel eyes aglow with warmth.

“Then I’ll learn to love you all over again. And you’ll do the same,” he breathes the words out and she stares at him, licking her lips.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” she confesses and he smiles down at her.

“Then I’ll wait until you are,” he says simply. “As long as it takes.”


End file.
